"Not really, no," Charlie remarked as if it were every day someone asked him about the dead people he saw without a trace of disdain in their voices, "They can't feel anything in their body any longer. It's just a---well, a body. It's not too important to them except they usually can't get away from it if they haven't crossed over and it's intact."
There were exceptions to that rule. Charlie had met a few spirits who were not pleasant courtesy of their bones being strewn about willy-nilly due to grave-robbers. There'd been a string of those in his area for a while. It was something to do with a movie? Kids mostly doing it as a prank until it became a serious issue courtesy of drug addicts looking to get jewelry or valuables off the corpses to pawn for their next high.
He wasn't about to tell the doctor about that though. What would she think about him? It was his job to protect the bodies in his cemetery and Charlie had slept through two robberies entirely while three more had happened while he was playing ball with his dead brother! The last thing he wanted was for the ME to think he was an incompetent within minutes of meeting him.
Trying to think of a nice way to say it, Charlie mumbled, "It's not theirs? The body? It is and it isn't. They can't feel it, but they're still attached to it on a certain level. If parts of it are taken away like the bones? They can wind up free to roam around wherever they want with no rules. They're just lost. Not here. Not onto the next place. Not anywhere except in the middle. It's only bones that does that though as far as I know. Our ME does the whole embalming thing and he's had to send things off for inspections like whole organs. No issues with the people they belonged to from any of my experiences."
Charlie had a lot of experiences, too. Sometimes he felt as if he'd spent his whole life working with the dead.